


The Wards

by sentient_dust



Series: Consequences of jumping the dungeon bat [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Beware, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gender or Sex Swap, Rating will change, Teacher-Student Relationship, discussion of miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentient_dust/pseuds/sentient_dust
Summary: Severus needed to know why the damned exemplars of rudimentary magic perceived Potter and himself as identical.He pursed his lips, discomfort creeping up his intestines.Perhaps not identical… merely similar.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Consequences of jumping the dungeon bat [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021357
Comments: 34
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This does not contain smut, yet. It is also not a stand-alone fic (I mean, you can try), Storage Room comes first.
> 
> Please read notes at the end.

Potter was chatting animatedly with the Gryffindors at their table. Her blackened hair danced along with the wide-eyed nods she was giving the Weasley boy. Granger, who was on the other side of the table, lifted her chin to l recite what Severus was sure was a word-for-word regurgitation of a textbook.

Potter laughed and her nose scrunched up, so perhaps he was mistaken. She good-naturedly hit Weasley’s arm. The redhead glanced at the teacher’s table and blanched, quickly looking back at his food. Snape sneered. He had larger matters to deal with than watching snot-nosed brats.

He excused himself, deliberately indifferent around the twinkling old wizard. Only allowing himself a noiseless sigh once he walked past the large columns of the castle to his quarters.

Pretending he didn’t feel the simmering anger under his skin, Severus slammed open the books that were already on his desk. Some were admittedly prohibited by the ministry, but it stood no chance to make it to the top hundred moral grievances under Snape’s belt.

The discolored paper bent under his fingers as he skimmed the contents practically seared onto the back of his lids with the amount of times he’d read them.

Harriet Potter’s magic was unrefined, brutish, and alarmingly powerful to be in the hands of a historically impulsive speccy teenager. But power did not muddle magical signature, if anything, it would do the opposite. The wards should have screeched.

They didn’t. Severus needed to know why the damned exemplars of rudimentary magic perceived Potter and himself as identical.

He pursed his lips, discomfort creeping up his intestines.

Perhaps not identical… merely similar.

His discomfort turned to stone, heavy in his stomach. He laid his palms flat on his desk and forced himself to think logically. There was no information about conception affecting protective spells that he found, yet. Baselessly panicking would only lead to more problems.

Would his blood mix with James Potter’s genetics? The prospect made him slightly nauseous, although Tobias Snape’s genetics could not become more fouled. There was Lily’s gene pool, of course, but somehow that made it worse.

No, it wasn’t confirmed. It was the explanation that made most sense, but it wasn’t confirmed. The only other entries in the books were spiels about soul magic as if Potter was cretinous enough to modify her soul. 

He had hoped to find documentation of the possible phenomenon before crudely pointing at the girl with a diagnosing spell. Alas, there was a class full of wretched students to teach, including Miss above-the-rules herself.

Snape stood in front of the classroom.

It was unholy retribution. There was no other alternative as to why his life had become avoiding reticent green eyes while stopping minors from killing themselves.

The curriculum called for Tonic For Trace Detection. A counterintuitively simple potion to brew, considering it dealt with the enhancement of magical signatures. Snape refused to acknowledge the irony.

“Longbottom! I swear to your putrefied toad, if you add a single more _solid_ angel’s trum-”

The cauldron began to shake because of course it did.

Potter immediately cast a _Protego,_ because of course she did.

“Potter!”

The brew contained Erumpent horns, notable for their explosion-prone sensitivity to magic, including benign spells. Magenta liquid slid over the shield, avoiding the boy but splattering on Potter. The class gasped.

Longbottom scrambled for his wand, “I- I’ll fix it, Harry!”

“Cease, you imbecile!”

Snape gripped the boy’s wrist as tight as he could, feeling hollow satisfaction in his whimper. “Get Potter and your moronic self to the infirmary in this instant. Tell Madam Pomfrey the potion has Erumpent horn in it.”

Harry’s nod did little to quell the desire to strangle them both.

“Is Harry going to be okay?”

“Do I look like a mediwitch to you, Mr. Weasley?”

After they had left, he turned to the rest of his students, “Is anyone capable of explaining why the tonic reacted in such a manner?”

Granger hesitantly lifted her arm, and he contemplated gouging his eyeballs out.

The second half of his classes had ended when a chirpy first-year Ravenclaw informed him Madam Pomfrey had requested his presence. It was rather late for Potter to remain in the infirmary. Unless, of course, she was pregnant and they were looking for the culprit.

There was little to be done if that was the case. He relaxed his features with practiced control. Squaring his shoulders, Snape walked to the respective side of the castle.

Dumbledore stood in the middle of the room conversing with the mediwitch, both with creases between their brows. Years of practice suppressed the iciness of fear at seeing the Headmaster beside an empty bed.

“What is the matter, Madam Pomfrey?” _What do you know?_

“Professor Snape,” she rushed toward him. “I have tried every remedy and counterspell I know and haven’t been able to reverse the effects of the accident.”

“What effects exactly?” He asked, annoyed at her vagueness.

Madam Pomfrey paused and looked at Albus. The Headmaster said, “It is best you see for yourself. Harry, why don’t you come out?”

A disembodied voice came from behind the privacy curtains. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Why was her pitch lower? Snape demanded, “Get out here, Potter.”

“No.”

“You-”

Albus placed a hand on his arm and gave him a pleading look. Was Potter in really such terrible shape? If it was a pregnancy linked to him the Aurors would have been here by now.

“Harry, my child. Professor Snape cannot enlighten us further about your condition if he doesn’t see you.”

There was a rustling behind the divider as well as a petulant, “Fine.” She stepped into view, and Snape promptly stopped breathing. His muscles had become marble, a statue only capable of staring without blinking.

Potter winced. James Potter winced? His brain reminded Snape wasn’t possible, but it was James Potter who stood in the infirmary in nothing but a hospital gown.

His gaze snapped at Albus, “Am I supposed to believe this is _Harriet_ Potter?”

“It’s an uncanny resemblance for certain.”

“Resemblance!”, he cried. “They’re identical!”

Dumbledore indulged him with a pained smile. “Now, Severus. Harry has darker hair than James,” he sounded nearly amused, if not for the pleading tone. _And Lily's eyes_ was only implied.

Harriet rubbed her forearm nervously, “It’s not permanent, is it, sir?”

Snape resisted the urge to step back. “This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t cast a spell near a highly volatile potion.”

“Neville would have been hit!”

“That vapid fly would have deserved it!”

“Just tell me if it’s permanent.” She grimaced, “Please.”

Merlin, what a sight from James’ face. “I… cannot be sure. There are no records of magic altering a witch or wizard’s gender. It could be related to an alteration to her magical signature but it’s unlikely.” Snape continued after a pause, content to make the brat squirm, “I would endeavor to guess, considering the potion’s contents, that the modification isn’t permanent.”

Being the cause of relief on James’ face was wildly disorienting. James, who was actually Harriet, a female… and now a male. A male who could have been possibly carrying his child.

Pounding waves of nausea hit him all at once.

“Headmaster,” Snape nodded. “Madam Pomfrey. If you’ll excuse me.” 

He nearly ran to the dungeons.

The child would have brought unimaginable pain, Snape thought numbly. Harry was a schoolgirl; she would be made to confess. Dumbledore would have been forced to fire him. Snape couldn’t spy for him in Azkaban. He choked on air, loathing with his entire being the image of the Dark Lord near an impregnated Harry.

It was moot to imagine it. The child was dead.

Snape walked faster down the spiraled stairs. It was a good thing, by every possible angle. Slamming the door shut as hard as he could without breaking it, he entered the brewing room.

Fuck Harriet Potter.

He didn’t acknowledge the irony of that thought either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys (who apparently give more than a rat’s arse about this god awful series).
> 
> I was debating posting this because I personally don’t like reading incomplete fics but I suppose I just wanted somewhere to get the public’s opinion. Would you rather I update this story as I write the chapters or wait until the whole fic is complete to post it? I’m leaning towards waiting but I figured I wanted to hear from the people enjoying this story along with me.


	2. Chapter 2

The girl had taken to wearing a glamour everywhere.

It was cleverly cast, but there was a faint demarcation around her neck. Another mark was exposed at her wrist when she stretched her arm over the table. He resolved to not think about where else she had them. The seams were not obvious in the slightest, but Snape had spent too long of his lifetime watching her for her safety to be fooled.

Keeping her safe is not what he is doing now.

Now he knew what her struggling hips looked like over his cock. What could undo the sight of bite marks on the back of her hand? Her walls shivered when he licked her clit. Loathing the unshakable images, he had stubbornly refused to put the books away.

Was he now included in the threats he neutralized? He nearly introduced her to motherhood, a fact that still profoundly disturbed him regardless of its perpetual repetition in his mind.

With all his borderline paranoiac control of himself, Severus from a year ago would have sooner died than predict this turn of events.

Blessedly, she stayed away. Perhaps she could sense that he did not wish to be disturbed, or likelier she was occupied with the trauma of a new body. Either way, it was a relief to have her out of his sights until he was able to get a grip on himself. As much as he could while teaching her, anyway.

He would never admit to anyone but himself to purposefully avoiding the Gryffindor-populated areas of the castle while on patrol nor to turning a blind eye at opportunities to aggrieve her when she erred in his class.

She had not made any visitations to his quarters, nor the brewery. The chaise lounge chair in his office that inexplicably materialized when she started routinely harassing him remained free of cheeky intruders.

The scratch of quill on paper and the bubbling of brews had once again become his most vigorous conversation partners.

Yet, peace was a capricious tale. Snape walked to the Headmaster's tower, briskly enough to scare away meandering students. Dumbledore had asked him to his office by this time of evening. The immense gargoyle did concern itself to look down when he said the password.

"Good evening, Severus," Albus said gratefully as if Snape had not fulfilled his every instruction in the past ten years. At least he knew the visit wasn't due to Potter spilling her secrets, yet.

"What is it, Headmaster?"

"Would you like to take a seat?"

"…Alright."

Dumbledore waited until Snape settled himself in the plush chair before continuing. "I must confess to concern regarding the longevity of Harry's condition. The glamour has helped prevent suspicion but it's a temporary solution."

"It's unmerited. The girl is perfectly healthy waiting out the effects of the potion."

"I hold out hope that her condition is impermanent, but we must not leave the fate of the wizarding world to chance. What if she does not change back soon?"

"It has been a week." He pointed out, suspicious as to what was Albus's actual motivation.

"The Dark Lord's plans have been put into motion, my boy. The prophecy declares, 'she will have the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.' I fear Harry will be caught unprepared.

"Her status has been successfully kept secret from even the staff. He has nothing to attack for yet."

"But how long until her glamour fails? It's an illusion easily undone by anyone."

"We'll get her a stronger spell, then. One that's tied to a physical object she'll keep on her person."

"It's not guaranteed against disarming spells, and fate is not susceptible to tricks for long."

Snape quieted. Would her biology affect the prophecy? He suspected he did not want to find out. "You are requesting I search for a method to reverse her transformation?"

"Please, Severus. Protect the girl."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache, Severus nodded slightly. A protector shouldn't know the exact hue of her nipples nor have memorized her brows drawing together when he licked her folds. 

"I need more information before I attempt to reverse anything."

"Thank you." Albus gave a weary smile, "I'll ask her to cooperate with you."

He snorted, not having to fake the curl of his lip. "Oh, joy."

Snape moved to get up but halted when Dumbledore offered, "Would you like some tea? Lemon drop, perhaps?"

The weight on his chest did not lift, but he managed a sincere, "I suppose that is acceptable."

James Potter stood in a girl's uniform at the entrance of his brewery, smiling with decidedly un-James-like nervousness.

Snape hoped his words sounded every bit as inhospitable as he felt, "Proceed quickly, Potter."

She sighed in relief, "Glamours get old quick. It makes my skin feel artificial."

"You could have been seen," he chided her.

She shrugged. "No one comes down here anyway."

That carefree, arrogant assurance was most worthy of James Potter's visage. He needed to get her out before he lost his sanity.

"Drink this."

Potter thankfully did as she was told, "What was it?"

"If you were going to ask questions you should have done so beforehand."

"I just didn't recognize the taste is all." She eyed the bottle.

"It's not patented."

"Ah," she said, not sounding at all concerned to be his testing subject. "How long until you know it works?"

Severus did not wish to have a conversation with Potter, whichever Potter that may be. "Not more than a quarter-hour. Now silence."

Disappointment crossed her borrowed features. Snape turned around without a word. He heard her huff before taking a seat.

Pretending the physical embodiment of all his mistakes was not casually tapping its feet on the stone floor, Snape closely monitored his tungsten cauldron.

Eventually, the required time passed and there was no shift in the girl's appearance. All he succeeded was at making her bored, her half-lidded eyes watching him work.

"You may leave now. The first brew has been predictably unsuccessful, but it was a necessary attempt. Return tomorrow at this same time." He would lower the anti-poisons in the next brew, she could endure it.

"We can't try the next one now?"

"Only if you're partial to the prospect of disturbing hallucinations, paralysis, tachycardia, memory loss, and death."

She shuddered, and Snape wondered if she was daft enough to forget the ease with which he could poison her.

"Not particularly. Thanks."

Turning his back to Potter was entirely his mistake, hoping she would redo her glamour and take her leave. But why would Potter do anything she was supposed to?

She instead emerged behind him with curiosity in her voice. “What are you brewing?”

Any closer she’d be touching him. Snape gauged how much credibility he still had to demand personal space. “Do not make me force you out.”

“Yeah, alright. I just noticed… We’ve never used this cauldron in class before, have we?”

Pursing his lips, he answered after a second of hesitation, “…No. It’s entirely impractical for most brews, as it takes a long time to warm. Its near-exclusive use is to melt metals before they are charmed to remain liquids. Such ingredients are not required by the Hogwarts curriculum until seventh year.”

“Why can’t the metals be charmed to turn into liquids, and skip the whole process?”

“If you had paid attention in class, you would know that converting one state of matter to another is a form of transfiguration. That of which is to be strictly avoided in a science that relies drastically on the integrity of its components.”

“It looks like silver.”

“Yes. Birds could identify its distinct luster, notably you as well.”

Potter’s eyes were victorious, “I see.”

Snape frowned, realizing he’d been beguiled into replying. About to tell her off for being smug, his gaze fell on her shoe that was touching the leg of the cauldron stand.

He pushed her away from the cauldron, ignoring her yelp, “What is wrong with you! Could you not feel your sole melting on your foot?”

She inspected the hole burnt through her shoe, grey socks showing underneath it. Lost, she hesitantly answered, “No?”

Leaning down Snape tapped the leather before withdrawing. Its temperature was too high to be plausibly comfortable. He sighed, suspecting he knew what happened.

“Touch the cauldron.”

“What?”

“Just do it, Potter,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I rather don’t fancy getting my skin burnt off.”

“You’ve endured worse, Gryffindor.”

That earned him an affronted glare, but she cautiously felt the metal anyway. Her brows scrunched in confusion and placed her entire palm. “It feels warm but not like it’s burning me.”

Her sleeve touched the metal and caught fire. Cursing, she snuffed it out by patting it with her bare palms.

He stared tiredly and made a note to lower the Alimony as well. He half-heartedly corrected her language, “Watch your mouth.”

Harry’s silent marvel was destroyed by James, who announced his arrival with an eerily familiar coy grin, “Watch it for me?”

The air was sucked out of Snape’s lungs, leaving them raw. How could this blasted child get under his skin so effortlessly? She wasn’t even trying. “Is this a joke you, Miss Potter!”

The visage she wore became her own when _his_ grin fell, “I don’t like this either, sir.”

“You seem perfectly at home in your hallowed father’s features,” he uttered with derision.

“I’m not!” She crossed her arms protectively, “Don’t pretend you know anything about how I feel.”

“Because the universe is supposed to revolve around your _feelings_.”

“You’re the one that got angry first, practically having a heart attack in the infirmary!”

_Your father should have stayed dead. He killed-_

“I wasn’t expecting to do anything like that anyway.” She hid her unease poorly, “I feel weird in this body.”

His heart was a clenched fist. “I will not waste my time on this conversation. Go to your dorm before curfew begins.”

Possibly for the first time in her life, Potter obeyed without comment. Snape told himself that he did not regret missing her reaction.

Even from the grave, James arrogantly placed his life before others.

Years of potioneering prevented the stench of burnt rubber from giving him a headache, but it was not any more tolerable.

It was also his experience with potions that kept him from pulling out his hair at the next several failed attempts at turning her. His frustration increased by the day and it was a constant struggle to not lash out at the object of it.

The girl, who actually looked like a girl at the moment, could have not been too bothered by his outbursts as _she kept prattling_ _with_ _Weasley_ in his class.

"Silence!"

They both ducked their heads as if he didn't know exactly who was muttering.

Snape really didn't want to give Potter detention. She'd have to serve it with him since he needed her to take the potion. He couldn't punish Weasley alone. That was sure to get unwanted attention.

"-hat's so bad about being a bloke?"

Why did he expect she would take anything seriously, even if it involved her well-being, _especially_ when it involved her well-being? He took the longer route to their desk, using the time to compose his temper. It would not do to yell at the girl in public.

"Detention, Mr. Weasley! _Miss Potter_ , see me after class."

"Yes, sir," they said unanimously. Could they be more insufferable?

Mercifully, no one else was up to testing the patience of the surlier-than-normal Potions Professor. Potter’s entourage limited themselves to concerned glances when they left the classroom.

He cast a _muffliato_ in case someone was at the door, overlooking the girl's ensuing blush. "Did Dumbledore not inform you that your condition was to remain unknown to everyone, including Mr. Weasley?", Snape spoke menacingly.

"He caught me going to the dungeons," the corner of her mouth twitched nervously. "He wouldn't tell anyone."

"Is his attempt at secrecy blabbering about it in class?", he demanded exasperatedly. "Nevermind the potential leaks of information in the same room?"

"He was whispering."

"He's as subtle as a splinched limb!"

"Not everyone has super spy-trained hearing, sir."

His patience snapped, grabbing the child’s shoulders he pulled her face close. "You insolent excuse of a sentient being! There is a war approaching and people are picking their sides. If they have any, I mean _any_ information they can use against you, they will."

Her expression was unreadable, and Snape was very accustomed to reading them.

“What is it? If you are hiding information from me, I will find out.”

“Nothing you would care about, sir.”

Narrowing his eyes, he darkly cautioned, “It is in your best interest that is true, Miss Potter.”

She nodded solemnly but it lost some of its effects with her unrelenting flush.

“I expect punctuality this evening.”

"Yes, sir," she forced out with a breath that touched his cheek. The warmth almost felt like a touch, it was also a sign to how close he had gotten.

Pulling away brusquely, Snape verbally undid the _muffliato._ They both knew he could do it wordlessly.

This time the menace waited until she was passed the door to undue the glamour.

He handed Potter the potion. "I have increased the dosage of Bulbadox juice in replacement of Antimony since it does not require being charmed as to not intoxicate the drinker. In other words, it is magically purer and therefore stronger- _Do not—_ shake the vial."

She had the decency to look embarrassed, "Sorry."

"Just drink it, dim child. Sit down first."

Obeying, she sat before hesitating, "Will I lose control of my muscles?"

"It's not likely to be anything significant. Now, drink it. I do not want to spend the whole evening tending to you."

She gave a small grin, too amused for having been insulted, "But you want to spend some of the evening with me? That's sweet, Snape."

Glaring, he flicked her scar, "That's Professor Snape to you." It was admittedly a low blow, but he was of Salazar's house.

"Ow," she scowled at him but drank the potion, finally. After a minute, she blinked repeatedly, "I… I feel a little drowsy? But it isn't bad."

He lifted an eyebrow, "Try to stand."

The chair wiggled as she attempted to summon enough strength in her legs. "I think I can do it." Pursing her lips, she used her (now bulkier) arms to push herself off the chair and attempted to take a step forward.

Snape almost let her fall out of petty retribution for being a stubborn Gryffindor, but she grabbed onto his robes before she could fall to the ground. Her hands dug into his back, and Snape was struck by how different her frame felt against him.

"I needed to see how affected your muscles were by the alternative flame-retardant, idiot girl. You could have just said you weren't able to get up."

"I was able, as you can see."

"I only see the rare opportunity to leave you on the cold, damp ground for the rest of the evening."

"Thought you wanted to spend your night alone?"

Bedding the girl had ruined him. She wasn't even phased by his threats.

He felt sudden desperation to see her cower, to know he could still make her run away. He pulled the back of her head by her unruly mop, a haircut worthy of second-year Weasley with a broken wand.

"Obviously, you mule. I pose no tolerance to the likes of you."

For the first time in Snape's life seeing hurt cross James' face brought him no satisfaction. Her jaw clicked shut, barring her from speaking. She had been successfully reminded she had no right to demand anything from him.

"Thank you for sacrificing your invaluable time on the likes of me, sir."

Her shove was sudden enough to break his grip. She collapsed on the ground, incapacitated muscles doing nothing to allay her fall. Her head narrowly avoided stone due to Snape's renewed hold on the back of her arms.

"How much more of an imbecile can you be, Potter!", he despaired. "Do you wish for a cracked skull? Is your plan to force me to levitate your bleeding unconscious self to the infirmary?"

"Let me go, Snape!"

He did, letting her prop her torso up by her arms.

"That was extraordinarily reckless for no valid reason."

"I didn't want to see you."

"You've failed your mission miserably."

"Agh!", she exclaimed. "You are such a git! How can any one person be so aggravating!"

"You are a hypocrite of the highest echelon, Miss I-am-above-everyone."

"I don't think that!"

"Liar! You are enslaved to your whims and expect me to show you preferential treatment like everyone else. I will not because there is _nothing_ to prefer!"

Potter clenched her eyes shut, "God, you're so mean."

It was beyond Snape why this was revelatory, but he didn't interrupt her, partially because she was stuck here until she could walk again. It was a small winded sound when she finally spoke, "Not that I expect any different, but I don't think you've insulted me this much since third year."

Heaviness had made itself a nest with his rib cage. The cavity where his oxygen belonged was it's home. The sting had dulled, but Snape could not help but wince.

The gloom of Potter's expression did not hold through her eyebrows lifting in surprise. She said nothing, staring contemplatively at the floor, where Snape had sat as well.

He then noticed her robes had opened slightly, likely due to the fall. The schoolgirl uniform peeking through contorted oddly around a man's body.

"You look ridiculous."

She snorted, "Yes, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some deliberation and posting the second chapter, I decided I would write the entire fic and post it completed. Don’t worry, I’m unequivocally finishing this, just learning the rounds of longer fic-writing. I despise abandoned works. 😩
> 
> Thanks for reading this :)


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